Wizard Starts Farming With Mini Skeletons

Startled, Clayton quickly reached up to check what was clinging to his head. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a large butterfly—its body and wings jet-black, blending so perfectly with the shadows that it was nearly invisible.

While it had been attached, he'd faintly felt his soul being drained. Had he not awakened when he did, he might never have noticed the slow siphoning—at least not until it was too late and he died.

Judging by its aura, the butterfly had the strength of a low-tier one-star monster. But the mental toll it inflicted made it feel far more dangerous, rivaling mid-tier monsters of the same class.

Sensing the danger, Clayton acted immediately.

Snap!

A bullet of water shot toward the jet-black butterfly. It flitted away in panic, instantly lifting the pressure from his head. The draining sensation vanished.

That only solidified Clayton's resolve to eliminate it.

Snap!

Snap!

Two more water bullets followed—one as a feint, the other to strike. The second hit its mark. The butterfly screeched faintly and crashed to the ground. With its soaked wings, it couldn't take flight.

Clayton exhaled in relief. While mentally threatening, the creature's physical strength was pitiful compared to other one-star monsters. Still, he approached with caution, ensuring it was truly incapacitated.

Snap!

One final shot to be certain. The butterfly twitched once, then went limp—no movement, no signs of life.

Satisfied, Clayton turned to leave—only to freeze in shock.

Not far away, Gemma and his mini skeletons lay sprawled on the ground, each with a black butterfly latched to their heads.

His eyes widened.

"Seriously? These things can affect skeletons—even though they're undead?"

Driven by concern and curiosity, he rushed over. Sure enough, the skeletons were completely unresponsive. Clayton scowled in frustration. They were utterly useless in this state.

Without hesitation, he began blasting the butterflies off each of them.

Oddly, the creatures made no attempt to dodge. Even under direct threat, they continued draining energy as if nothing else existed.

"Have these things never failed before? Are their danger instincts just… broken?" Clayton muttered in disbelief.

He didn't wait for an answer. He kept firing until nothing remained but the crumpled corpses of the butterflies.

Only then did Gemma and the skeletons stir. They looked dazed, as if waking from a long, surreal dream. Gemma seemed relatively unaffected—perhaps thanks to her Light attribute, though Clayton couldn't be sure. Still, he was grateful.

The skeletons, however, were worse off. The soul-flames in their eye sockets had dimmed, barely flickering.

Clayton examined them one by one. After a thorough check, he sighed in relief. Their condition wasn't permanent—they'd recover with time.

He returned them to his dimensional space to rest and regain strength.

Together with Gemma, he began inspecting the area—and that's when he made a chilling discovery.

They had wandered into the habitat of the Starlit Night Tuberose—a magical flower that only bloomed at night. Its pollen was both scentless and invisible, yet carried a creeping, hallucinogenic effect. The longer the exposure, the stronger the illusion.

Worse still, the pollen carried a pure Dark attribute, allowing it to bypass physical senses and directly target the soul and mind.

That explained why even his undead familiars had been affected. Though lacking flesh, they still possessed souls.

The realization sent a cold shiver down Clayton's spine.

He silently thanked the trial space—had he not gained dark magic manipulation, the outcome could have been far worse.

Cautiously, he approached the flowers to begin collecting pollen. But before he could start, he noticed several butterflies perched calmly on the petals—of the same species that had attacked him earlier.

Studying them more closely, he gained immediate insight.

They were Silent Night Ink Butterflies—beautiful yet deadly. Their primary ability was to absorb soul energy. Physically weak and incapable of direct attack, they relied on areas saturated with Tuberose pollen to activate their power.

With that knowledge, Clayton no longer felt threatened. He exterminated the remaining butterflies with little effort.

Afterward, he gathered the pollen—black-tinged yet translucent—and collected several butterfly corpses for study. As long as he maintained mental clarity, he experienced no further issues.

Within an hour, he had collected plenty.

With night approaching, Clayton searched for a safe place to rest. He set up his tent and settled in for the night.

...

The Next Morning

Clayton resumed his journey. He'd slept soundly, likely because no other creatures dared to inhabit the Starlit Night Tuberose habitat—thanks to the butterflies and the flowers' effects.

Before leaving, he used a magic scroll—Four Forty-Eight—to view the butterflies' last 48 hours of memory.

He instantly regretted it.

The memories played in a strange, compound format—fragmented, multi-layered, and utterly disorienting. His head throbbed under the sensory overload, nearly splitting in pain.

Fortunately, he stabilized in time.

From the information he gathered, Clayton managed to map out several important landmarks nearby. He decided to head toward the location of the next trial gate.

Though the gate wouldn't open for a while, familiarizing himself with the terrain would help him avoid getting lost later.

The journey led him past several smoking mountains—some clearly active volcanoes, others ominously dormant.

He couldn't help but wonder: What if they all erupted at once?

The thought unsettled him. Luckily, his mini skeletons scouted ahead and kept the path clear of threats.

After half a day's travel, Clayton finally arrived near the gate.

He felt a surge of excitement.

But curiosity soon led him toward a crowd gathered around the gate. In the center stood a sword embedded in stone—similar to the exam from the previous trial.

As he approached, he noticed something strange. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating. The people around the gate looked tense, their expressions grim.

No one said a word.

Clayton's curiosity grew, but no one offered an explanation.

Only when he drew closer did he realize what was happening.

Several elite groups—including the three major families from Sunlight City—were forcing rogue mages to attempt pulling the sword from the stone.

The sight made his blood boil.

"Damn it… Looks like I won't be able to stay out of this," Clayton muttered under his breath, already noticing several people eyeing him suspiciously.

And sure enough, a few of them began walking toward him...